


Black Ties

by 01123581321345589



Category: Fringe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/01123581321345589/pseuds/01123581321345589
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Occasionally, an Observer is seen with a diagonal stripe on his tie. It does not stand out, but it does mean something.</p><p>(Based around Season 2, Episode "August".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Ties

** Black Ties **

 

September recognised all too well the dark grey stripe on August’s tie that day. The day August was questioned regarding his actions. 

 

September could have sworn that someone had suddenly laden his stomach with rocks. He was bearing his own metaphorical slash across his heart, and had hoped that, of those he had encountered to be burdened with the slash, that it would not be another one of his twelve. 

 

His expression was stoic as he kept his recognition from December and July, both of whom had normal black ties. He was thankful that August did not react to this symbol of solidarity.

 

 

*

 

 

September remembered the day he was approached. Another observer; one which he had never met before, stood beside him at a train station. He nodded in recognition of his own people, and returned to reading the train schedule.

 

An announcement went over the speakers regarding a fast train, which was very quickly followed by a deafening cargo train.

 

His strange comrade turned and very plainly spoke, just closely enough, and clear enough to be heard over the commotion of the train.

“You know how it feels, don’t you?”

September turned slowly to his new companion.

“It?”

His companion smiled. September found it filled him with a sense of danger, but also comforted him.

“I was right.” The companion said, “If you had not known, as one of us, your response would not have been ‘it’, rather, the word that would have caught you in that sentence was ‘feels’.”

He felt a crisp business card being pushed into his hand.

“Do not drop this. Burn it when you have read it. I am sure we’ll meet each other again.”  The stranger said, before turning and walking away.  Before September could think of a response, the gentleman had already vanished into the crowds.

 

The cargo train soared off into the distance. September put the card into the pocket, without reading, and continued with his assignment. He internally cursed himself for not asking for his name, or at least for whom he was working.

 

Upon completion of his assignment, he found a quiet diner and set in a booth in a secluded corner. He retrieved the card from his pocket.

 

“Wear a tie with a stripe on. Show solidarity with humanity. Feelings are a gift.”

 

He thrust the card back into his pocket. It felt like the information was burning his hand. His chest felt tight and he frantically went through the scenario repeatedly in his mind, trying to figure out how the man had known to approach him about this.

 

His breath seemed caught short as he envisioned a scenario in which someone found the card in his pocket. He rose to his feet abruptly, bumping gently into the waiter as he came to the table.

“Oh! Sorry for the wait, sir. Are you ready to order?”

“No. It’s quite alright, I have just realised I have forgotten my wallet.” September lied quickly. Thankful for the amount of times he’d heard other people say that line. He placed his hat back onto his head and walked away.

 

He walked a couple of blocks to give himself time to think before turning into a convenience store. The clerk shot him a quick smile before returning to stocking shelves. He stood patiently at the counter, waiting for her. She filled her shelf and then saw him waiting.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t realise you were waiting for cigarettes!”

“I am not, I just require a lighter.”

“No problem. She grabbed a lighter from the shelf and rung it through the till. “I’m really sorry about the wait, I really didn’t have you tabbed as a smoker.”

“I am not.” September said. Handing her the correct change and turning to leave before she even had a chance to respond. She looked confused, before sighing, and resigning herself to returning to shelf-filling.

 

He ducked effortlessly into a dark parking garage. He knelt down behind a car in the far corner and pulled the card, and a lighter from his pocket.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

September turned. The strange man from the station looked down to him.

“It burns better if you douse it in gas first.” He said. Offering a bottle of fluid to September. He grabbed it and doused the card before igniting it and dropping it as it combusted.

 

Seconds later, it was gone.

 

“Who sent you?” September asked.

“No one. I send myself. Your technology is not as rare as your division thinks.” The gentleman responded. “However, it is rare enough that you probably won’t see another one of us again.”

“Who are you?”

“Just someone else who believes humanity will prevail eventually. You’re not as alone as you think.”

“And the tie?”

“Because you’ll realise, you’re not as alone as you might think. And how alone have you felt, knowing that you had these… Glimpses… At emotion that no one else of your kind had felt?”

 September knew what he referred to. Those nights when the world was not busy. When everyone else was asleep. And he’d be waiting on a mission, and creeping up on him would be this sensation, like there was an emptiness behind his ribs. The silence would only make it worse. He’d learned loneliness fast.

“I am not alone?” He said. Realising immediately how redundant that sentence had been.

“You’ll see. Even if you don’t wear the tie. Look out for them.”

The gentleman stepped back into the shadows. September went to follow him, but again, the gentleman was already gone.

 

He never saw him again. He bought the tie.

 

*

 

“I have observed this woman for much of her life. She is unique.” August spoke in return to December’s direct questioning about his kidnapping of Christine Hollis.

“They are all unique. That is not reason to interfere with the course her life was meant to take.” September interjected, hoping to calm the obviously (to him, anyway) panicked observer.

“We have interfered before.” August retorted. September tried to ignore the hurt he felt, knowing that the remark was directed as his own failings.

“Only to correct a mistake of our own making. She has no future.”

“Then why do I see it?” He queried. September allowed the others to take the conversation, trying to think of a way to help August. It was obvious he was struggling. He knew what it felt like to first begin to recognise some of this emotional cognition, no matter how slight it was in comparison to people who were not of their own kind. He felt the urge the try and help August through whatever he was dealing with.

 

By the time he managed to find August again. He was lying on the floor, slowly bleeding, whilst a commotion occurred up the stairs. He knew the FBI agents had Christine Hollis, and she was safe. He watched as August’s shoulders physically relaxed at the sight of him. September lifted him and swiftly tucked him neatly into the back of his own car. He drove off efficiently, avoiding any untoward speeding that may alert the agents upstairs.

 

A few blocks later August spoke first.

“How long?”

“The tie?” September responded. Still, after all these years was too afraid to refer to himself as in any way ‘feeling’. “I have had it for some time.”  
“It is new to me. If this is what it is like for us, then I am not sure I can cope.”

“You will not have to. Not now.” September said, trying not to sound upset at the loss of his colleague.

“I know. But for you, this is your eternity.”

“Only until we cease to exist.” September sighed. Glimpsing back to August in the rear-view mirror. “I believe humanity will win. There is nothing in that for us. I will just keep doing my job until that day. And that’s OK.”

“OK?” August coughed. “You are willing to let those emotions sit inside you, and do nothing until you suddenly stop existing, and that is OK with you?”

September paused to think before replying.

“No. But there is no alternative. All I see currently is the end of humanity. I hope one day that will change. Then I will know what to do.”  
“How do you know that will change, unless you do something to change it?” August asked.

September stopped looking in the mirror and fixed his eyes to the road, trying not to feel anger at August’s ability to ask such honest questions.

“I do not.”

 

August left the silence there, and September let that thought sink in. He knew he’d been running from his own cause for some time. He knew he had to do something. He just didn’t know if he’d be able to handle the consequences. He realised the selfishness of such thoughts. He was acting exactly like one of his own kind. He despised himself in that moment.

 

“Will she be safe now?” August interrupted September’s epiphany.

“Who is she? Why did you save her?” September asked, still confused as to the significance of Christine Hollis.

“I saw her many years ago” August began. September listened as he explained how he had come across the girl, “I think… I love her. Will she be safe now?”

September realised that August had done the one thing he could not do himself. He had done something to change the future that he saw.

“Yes. You made her important. She is responsible for the death of one of us.”

 

*

 

He turned the last patch of soil over onto the pile where he had buried August. He knew it would be months before anyone walked over this particular area again, but which point there would be no sign of the grave.

 

Before he had laid August’s remaining husk to rest. He placed August’s tie on top of the grave.

 

September knew August was right. In his last words, he had made September recognise that he would have to act in order to change the future that was laid out for him. He knew it would be hard, but for the first time in his life, he felt ready to deal with that.

 

He bent down to the grave one last time.

“Thank you.”

 

He stepped back into the car, trying not to think about the irrationality of his last actions, before driving back towards the busy towns again. He glanced to the backseat, spotting a glint of light.

 

A push-pin badge laid on the seat, shining brightly as he returned to street-lit roads.

 

For the first time ever, he turned on the radio.


End file.
